nurturing thursdays: their problem…not yours

A mother’s comment led me to repostBelieve at, something I’d written a few years ago. Having read the original post only a couple of days ago, she left these words…

“Thank you for your beautiful poem! I just sent it in a card (with you credited of course) to a homesick son away at boot camp.”

I could only think how inspiring this mother is to take her son’s preparation for the difficult road ahead…with such grace. I thought “I should thank her,” and I did.

At the time I wrote Believe, I was experiencing self-doubt.

I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve, diving into situations with a typically hugmamma attitude. Not quite Pollyana, since I do have a cynical side…partly because I was raised by a single-parent…and partly, because I was a New Yorker for 10 years.

Without going into details, I was totally blind-sided to discover that my good intentions of many years were probably not received as they were offered…unconditionally and without reservation. Instead, criticism withheld for who knows how long seeped in. Like molten lava…hot to the touch…becoming solid rock over time.

After much soul-searching and loving support from my own family, I moved on finding renewed faith in myself. I awoke early one morning and wrote Believe.

Compassion for others begins with compassion for myself.

As I reflect once more upon what I’d written, I’m reminded of what I told my daughter when she was too young to understand why others could be so unkind.

When others said or did something hurtful to my child, I told her she wasn’t responsible for what they said or did. Their words and deeds were coming from within themselves. The problem was theirs, not my daughter’s.

We are not the focal point of others’ lives. We should not think we are. Once we accept this fact, we can be free of the chaos we create for ourselves. We needn’t be bound by the ill-placed actions of those with an axe to grind.

Everyone lives their own lives the best they can. No one is exempt from life’s dark side. While I try very hard not to pass judgment on others…only God can do that…I prefer to thrive in the company of those who are generous in thought and deed. They keep me grounded in who I am and want to be…

…a person of compassion.


ENJOY other inspirational pieces at


On 12/3/11, I wrote and posted the following poem to hugmamma’s mind, body, and soul. Since then I have been reminded of it by inspirational fellow blogger, Pocket Perspectives, who has very kindly reblogged my poem…twice! Very humbling indeed. You can enjoy her motivational words at

I was just reminded of what I’d written yet again by K. Jackson.  A couple of nights ago she left the following comment after reading what I’d written almost 3 years ago.

“Thank you for your beautiful poem! I just sent it in a card (with you credited of course) to a homesick son away at boot camp.”

I wish I could offer comfort to this mom whose son is committing himself to our safety, far from those he loves and who love him. Her comment, an expression of a mother’s desire to hold her child close, inspired me to revisit…


…in yourself
…in your worth…to others…and to you
…in your goodness…and in your desire to do good
…in your possibilities…and that all things are possible
…in your ability…especially in overcoming negativity
…in your strengths…don’t dwell on your weaknesses (we all have a few)
…in those who love you
…in tomorrow, the dawn of a new day
…in your gut instinct…it knows you best
…in compassion…for others…as well as yourself
…that you are your own best friend…always root for youself
…that you deserve to be alive…and that you DO make a difference
…that you can do whatever it is you want…and that you will succeed
…that it is you who sets your own agenda…not others

…and always believe…that happiness is there for the taking…in all the small moments…every day of your life…



Hovering above…

little hearts.

Telling us…

do not mourn.

Find peace…

in their

heavenly ascent.

No bitterness,

only hope…

we’ll be better


If at first we don’t succeed…try…try…again.

…out of the mouths…of babes…


“that damn window”

Another piece of writing, but this time by a homeless poet. Its words could be those uttered by any one of us, to anyone from whom we’ve wanted approval…and love.

That Damn Window
by Jason Schafer

I’m just curious, how is that damn window doing for you? Did it finish cutting down
them trees yet? Did it finish them sprinklers? Or what about them gutters–has it done
anything with them? How about the yard work? Yeah, probably too busy filling that
hole in the sun room. Too bad that damn window can’t fill the one in your heart. I still
wonder if that damn window randomly gives you a kiss while you sit in your chair knit-
ting your blanket. Does that damn window ever say “I love you?” Has it cooked you
breakfast yet? Or simply said good morning after a night’s sleep? I’m sure that damn
window appreciates you giving it a place to be. It just seems like you would rather have
that damn window than an only son like me that loves you. Maybe I’m not transparent enough–like that damn window. I wish next time you sit next to that damn window,
and stare out its cloudy view, you might just see me smiling, and read my lips that say,

I still love you.


…enough said…hugmamma.

poems, “the homeless”

Got a copy of the “homeless” newspaper from a city where a friend lives. It ran several poems written by formerly homeless citizens. I wanted to share three with you.

Cell of the Mind
by James T. Meeks

Staring silently into space
Trying to remember
The time and place.

Thinking of a hidden feeling
Hidden away
Only to awake staring at the ceiling.

I’ve been locked away
From the one I love
Maybe there will be a day.
(I’ll find a way!)

To express the way I feel
But the card man
Won’t get for real.

He keeps dealing the King of Hearts
I wish he’d deal the deal
Before it starts.
(And breaks both our hearts!)

by Lydia Macklin

What does it mean to me?
Of course it means no roof
over my head, a place to
someday call home.
It means no address or phone numbers
to put on job applications.
It means carrying your belongings
in a sack on your back.
It means unfamiliar bed and people
every night.
It sometimes means awful food that
you have to eat so you won’t
be hungry.
It means forever watching your
back ’cause you don’t know
who your real friends are.
It means sleeping with one
eye open ’cause you don’t know
what people might do.
It means people look through
you ’cause they don’t want
to see you as a human ’cause
that would mean you’re
just like them.

Looking Back
by John El

Well looking back
To see where love went wrong
Trying to understand and still stand strong
Just how you made a fool outta me
Looking back to forgotten memories
Well it seems like I was always outta sight outta mind
I guess that’s why they say that love is blind
For a nickel’s worth of love is not worth a dime
And looking back
Some women are like the wind
Here they come and gone again
For lovers and strangers
That’s all they are
Chasing rainbows and wandering stars
‘Cause looking back
These things I already know
So if the conversation leaves you in doubt
Pack up your things and go
And now I’ve grown old and my hair is turning gray
When I hear the same old lines I just laugh and walk away
And looking back
I catch myself whisper her name
And it’s a mystery to me that drives me insane
So don’t remember what I said but what I had to say
Looking back
Only brings heartaches and heartbreaks of yesterday

Tender sentiments belonging to those who have lived on the edges of society. These words do not belong to me or to you, so if you repeat them, give credit to those who wrote them. For it’s obvious they rose up from the depths of their souls.

hugs for the homeless…they are you and meturned upside down…hugmamma.


life’s a ball

think of a ball bouncing,

and then,

it stops.

like life.

so many balls to choose from,

ping pong, golf, tennis, baseball,

volleyball, soccer, basketball,

bowling and football.

so many options.

like life.

balls offer good sport and good times.

for some, they provide income.

for others, profit.

there are superior ball players,

they garner awards.

then there’s those who “get by,”

more like

you or i.

dabbling’s okay too,

really no better no worse,

just different.

like life.

think of a ball bouncing,

a lesson for us.

have a blast while it’s bouncing,

when it stops,

it stops.

like life.

billiard’s fun too…hugmamma.

poems, i live by

“LEISURE” by W. H. Davies

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs, And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can, Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.


“A WORD” by Emily Dickinson

A word is dead…When it is said, Some say.

I say it just…Begins to live, That day.


leisure and the word, i live by…hugmamma.